


gray eyes.

by caticoo



Category: Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types
Genre: Fluff, Just Straight Up Fluff, M/M, god this is so gay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-10
Updated: 2018-01-10
Packaged: 2019-03-03 02:36:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,720
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13331700
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/caticoo/pseuds/caticoo
Summary: my star. my sun. my moon. my universe.





	gray eyes.

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Kirumi](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kirumi/gifts).



> i dont have anything to say other than i wrote this in under an hour and ki ikeda is a gaywad

When you met Junichi Amari, he looked at you firstly like anyone else did.

You knew the way you acted, the way you presented yourself, and the way you carried your being with the most uniquely quirky character ever known as Ki Ikeda (your real name you despised, so badly -- you forget it’s your real name, or you try to, at least,) would have definitely received you odd looks. This you were prepared for and this you were steeled, and you were sure that it would remain this way with every single person you would encounter in this high school social experiment. You understood that this was only a one-in-a-lifetime point in time -- you would not be 15, 16, 17, or 18 again. You would not be able to return to high school grounds as a normal student.

You knew that this was where you should be making so called “high school memories” as the “best years of your life”, as “they” said, whoever “they” were. But you always knew deep down you were just plain. Boring. Stale. You wouldn’t fit in if you were the person you were beforehand, and you wouldn’t in a lifetime and many more after. So you wore your mask, you lifted yourself and you became someone nobody has ever seen before.

At least, almost nobody. He only doubletook exactly once, or twice, but afterwards, the mysterious boy that called himself a “lowly government worker” only saw you and looked at you like you were anyone else.

Now, suddenly, like a ripple in the peace that you called your isolation, you found yourself standing there at the ledge of a chilly January mountain, bundled up in only a puffy sweater you wore only because he insisted. You two could dance in the rain at any given moment if Mother Nature allowed it, but sometimes even you knew your boundaries -- you didn’t want to disable or plague the boy with any more pain than necessary. You know that buried deep within his gaze, colored gray like rainy clouds or a kitchen knife ready for use (occasionally it felt that way as well, towards particular people), were pages upon pages of delicate insecurities and worries, blank sheets of self-worth and care and the need to look at himself and wonder what on Earth could he truly be.

But you know well who he is, you try to remind him as much as you can, like on a night like this. You know he is so much more than the person he had built himself to be, from a child, you know, abandoned by family, for whatever cruel, cold-cutting heartless reason (you promised to yourself that if you ever met the woman that Junichi claimed to be his mother, you’d rip out her neck and eat it whole and you wouldn’t gag) -- you know it, you know it more than the person that slammed you against the wall by the neck, choked you out, made your voice as soft as the palm of this self-claimed lowly government worker, holding tenderly in yours.

You sit on a picnic table abandoned, semi-covered in the mid-winter snow (you offered to eat it off, but Junichi insisted it was unsanitary and you instead removed the issue by making a snow angel). Your ass is freezing, and you’re sure Junichi’s is as well, but it seems like Junichi doesn’t care, so you don’t as well. The ride to the mountaintop was chilly enough, anyways -- you only know how to drive a motorcycle, but your helmet covered up and wind splattering your pale face, and you hoped the boy you’re so preciously holding the placid palm of was comforted by the body heat that you emitted (which was a lot, you hoped -- the only time embarrassment and nervousness came in your favor). 

You start off by pointing out some of the constellations. You forgot when you started taking such an interest in outer space, when you decided that aliens would be your motif, but it wasn’t like it was completely transparent from your sights -- after all, the sky was always there. You only had to look up and decide that was where you’d claim to be from, and maybe, maybe, maybe you could have been from there, too. You hoped that maybe that was the case, possibly, if you had a younger mindset, in a younger body -- that the man that you thought was your father wasn’t your father at all, and your true father was just an alien that had so carelessly left his lover and their one offspring. But you knew deep down that wasn’t the case -- still, you tried your best to believe it anyways.

Junichi listens to you ramble about the stars, originations, what connected and what made up a constellation. You can’t exactly pinpoint where Taurus is, or if it’s even in the night sky (you’re still not sure about that part, you’re not an astronomer), but you tell Junichi about the constellation regardless. You tell him about zodiac theories about personality, that you know they’re just some made-up junk but it’s still fun to read and analyze from time to time -- you tease about your own star sign, Cancer, being compatible with Taurus, but not the most compatible (they say Virgo is the ideal match for a Taurus, and you say that zodiac astronomy prediction bullshit can suck your ass). With the way Junichi retorts to it, you can tell he agrees.

You take a moment to look at the sky, try to pin down the brightest star you can -- there are a lot of stars in the sky, and you know they’re all equally bright and that it’s just a matter of how far or close they are to Earth, but they don’t matter, do they? So you point one down to tell the boy, with that quiet voice of yours, that that’s your homeplanet -- the place where you originated from, the place where you wanted to be from. He stares at it for only a couple seconds (like always, not believing your “funny” tall tales) -- you follow up quietly, trying to remind him how much he means to you.

“It’s a bright planet, but…,” You mumble, trailing off -- the heat on your face thickens. “I’d much rather stay on Earth… Earth is the brightest planet of all, because my sunny Junny is here with me.”

You can see his cheeks rose, too, and a smile creep those lips you love to kiss so much. You love it when he grins, for he looks like a lovely picture in a castle -- so beautiful, sometimes so unreachable, even though you know that smile is waiting just for you, sometimes. Even though you know you’re the closest one to it. Sometimes you feel like all you have to do is stand and admire it for Junichi to be happy -- other times you take more initiative, and other times, he does.

He gently grasps the both of your hands, not just the one you’ve been holding -- he’s cold to touch, too, but your sudden contact fills you up with warmth like a tender fire, and the goosebumps trail your unrevealed skin. You look him straight in the eyes (they’re bigger than you had saw when you first took glances at him), and he looks at you, softly, gently -- like nothing could hurt you, and nothing could hurt him, and that was the feeling you wanted for the both of you for eternity.

“I’m… glad that you’re here with me. Because… just like I make the Earth bright for you,” He pauses, only to flicker his gaze for a second to your hands, intertwined and happy like vines on a post. “... You illuminate everything for me.”

You curse him. What an alien seducer, he is, and you’ve known it forever, because your heart tattoos so loudly, you want to explode. (It’s not like you’d mind that, being here, with Junichi, you feel like you could die in utter peace.)

Instead of words, because simply, like Junichi had once insisted, words couldn’t be enough, you release one of your hands (the one you’ve been holding for the majority of the time, for it is warm) to raise to his cheek, cupping it delicately, like a statue. He could be a statue, if he was -- you thought he was that beautiful. With the way his eyes arched, his nose slid, and chin cleaned. The workings of his eyebrows, relaxed and slightly raised at your sudden action, but the relaxation in the comfort that your hand brought him. His eyes, shaped wide like the moon herself, dazzled in light and glory and beauty.

You recall a tiny argument about Junichi’s eyes, and how he momentarily believed them to be gray and boring. Yet, even though you knew that they were the color of smoke and steel, there were so many other beautiful things that drew you to it -- the fact that not only did they resemble moon craters, but they resembled diamonds. Glistening, beautiful, wonderful diamonds, that you’re surprised Amano hadn’t called Junichi out for them. You decide in that moment that Junichi is not only the sun, he is the moon. In fact, he is the entire universe. Your universe.

You stare at him for a little while longer, the silence between you comfortable and relaxing, as if it belongs. Like you belong. Like the both of you belong. You sweep your fingers under his bangs, the ones that cover a little of his most precious face, the one you so loved, the one he believed to be stale and uninteresting.

But to you, his face is the least boring thing in the entire universe, for you could stare at it forever.

You take the opportunity to rub gently, watching Junichi’s eyes slowly entrust your touch, falling gracefully closed. He shifts a little forward, like he expects something (you know what he wants, and you smile, thankfully. Full of relief. Full of happiness.) You only manage to tremble out the word “Junny” under the chilly evening air, the blanket of stars in the sky, and the snow that’s so carefully beginning to fall, making the night colder than it is. But you don’t mind that.

You kiss him, and your world is warm.


End file.
